


Breath by breath

by boxofwonder



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 05:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13183263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxofwonder/pseuds/boxofwonder
Summary: A ratty backpack and a small suitcase.That’s what his life boiled down to. The things he can’t part with. Some clothes, a toothbrush. Enough money to get him a train ticket, and maybe breakfast. And after?He doesn’t think of after.





	Breath by breath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [talonyth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talonyth/gifts).



> Dedicated to my best friend because you're the one giving me hope when all else fails.

A ratty backpack and a small suitcase.

That’s what his life boiled down to. The things he can’t part with. Some clothes, a toothbrush. Enough money to get him a train ticket, and maybe breakfast. And after?

He doesn’t think of after.

Robin licks his lips, tastes the lingering rush of the party he just left. The alcohol has turned sour in his stomach already, and the cold winter air chased the lingering warmth away. His sweat has dried tacky and makes him shiver now.

But the memory of his first kiss is still sweet enough to keep the pounding headache at bay, the cold, all of it. For a moment, just a moment, Robin had been _normal._

Letting loose. Drinking, dancing, eating, mingling with people.

Well, people … he hadn't left Chrom’s side all night. Something about his warm smile and his big, gentle hands. Robin had just leaned back against the wall, cradled his drink, and laughed along as Chrom gestured so wildly he’d kept hitting passing people. His eyes had sparked, as he talked about family and fencing and food. _Food._

Robin curled up on himself as if that could chase the chill away. He yearned for it so desperately - a warm house, the chatter of voices, the muffled music.The _life_ all around. It had felt so cozy, so safe - his back pressed against the wall, Chrom’s broad chest not closing him in, but shielding him from the slight chaos all around.

He needs to stop thinking of this. Robin shivers, muscles aching from how tightly he’s curling in on himself. He’s sitting under an awning, relatively dry, but the wind is merciless. There are still three hours until the first train out of this city.

And then? And then? He’s so tired.

So tired of running. Of hoping. Of grasping for any sense of security, stability, and having it yanked from him again. How much longer can he run and hope?

How many more scuffs in his suitcase before …

Movement at the window behind him startles him from his thoughts. Ah, they’re realising he’s here. With a bitter smile, Robin gets up and moving. Aimlessly, into the night.

The windows around him are lit up, most decorated warmly. Shadows dance past them. Flowers and little knickknacks cluster on the windowsills.

Having a home means having the luxury to settle long enough to accumulate things not directly necessary to survival, and Robin wants it, yearning so overwhelming and painful it makes him stumble physically.

If he had that - a home - he could have asked Chrom for his number. Maybe seen him again away from parties, rather than slink away at the first chance without his attention. It had been cowardice, pure and simple, but Robin couldn’t possibly have said goodbye.

It had to be a clear cut.

There. Warm, accepted, laughing and weightless.

And gone. Gone, out here, back to being the same old him. A ratty backpack, a scuffed suitcase, no city to belong to. Feet carrying him onward. There is a sketchy offer waiting for him the next town over, at least.

Ylisse is a nice place. Not a place for someone like him. Not a place for the kind of person who is only still breathing because of an elaborate ruse of _years_ to gather enough information on his father to make it a noose, all of it to be released in case of Robin’s death. Someday, that safety will crumble, anyways.

But until then he’ll run as far as he needs to. Make a life far away from any of that.

And if freedom means that he only lives for the thought of a coffee and a warm croissant in the morning, then so be it.

  
  


The fountain is still lit at night.

Coins shimmer inside the water - so ridiculously clear for a fountain in a public park - and for a terrible second Robin considers to just -

But no. This place is holy to him. The first place he saw that had made him want to stay anywhere he passed through so far.

Robin can’t explain how this park had enchanted him. It’s the same as everywhere - some dog poop, a worn down little playground with the paint chipping and the swings squeaking as they swung. And yet, when Robin had first set foot in here, a lady walking her two fluffy dogs had smiled at him so brightly, he’d felt … welcomed.

This place holds memories.

Robin digs into his pockets and throws the smallest coin he has into the water, smiling at the small sound in the eerie quiet of the night. He lets go of his suitcase and puts his hands together, closes his eyes. _Please let me return to this place someday, in better shape, with a place to return to._

The small wish fills him with something like peace. Robin takes his suitcase back into his aching fingers and slinks to a bench. Two more hours. The train will be warm, at least … he rubs his cold hands together and closes his eyes and fantasises about hot coffee.

Nothing else.

Not where he’ll be around this time tomorrow. What he’ll be doing for some food and maybe a roof over his head -

He should have waited longer to flee. Saved up more. But it would have killed him. This was still better than everything he’d had to do as the heir to that empire -

He doesn’t want to kill and cheat and lie and live dishonestly. A small flat, a simple job, and some sense of safety. That is all that he’d settle for.

But it’s too much to ask for.

That’s what’s killing him.

He just wants to live. Is that so hard? Is that really too much to ask? Find honest work and have a small room to close a door to and stay in a place. But the offer to work here fell through and now? Now all that’s left is … that.

The darkness closes in on him. His hands ache from clinging to his belongings so bad.

Burying his face in his hands, he feels his expression twist, but tears won’t fall. It’s a curse and a blessing, but he’s too numb to feel.

It’s okay. It’ll be okay. He survived everything so far. He will survive this, too. One breath after the next. One foot in front of the other. These hours, warm breakfast, a train ride.

He’ll take it as it comes after that.

He exhales a shuddering breath that leaves damp, fleeting warmth on his bare hands. Again. Steels his shoulders. Okay. Okay.

“Robin!”

Is he hallucinating? Robin flinches, looking around with wide eyes. He blinks at the man slowing from a sprint as he jogs towards him. That’s …

“Chrom,” he breathes back. What … ? What is he doing here?

“You vanished. Oh thank god you’re okay.” Chrom came to a halt before him, his clear eyes taking in too much - Robin, hunched, his clothes and hair damp, clinging to his bags with a too-tight grip. “I was so worried.”

Robin must have been a better kisser than he thought he’d been. “I’m just waiting,” he says pleasantly. Why is this happening? The point was _not_ to let Chrom know about any of his baggage. To just be free, for one glorious night. To leave a memory with someone who didn’t know him as a scary heir to a crazy man, or a lost soul wandering aimlessly.

To simply be Robin. The man who laughed and kissed Chrom and then vanished into the night.

“Waiting,” Chrom says, and he doesn’t look all too convinced. Why on earth did he … had he scoured the whole city for him? It’s not a particularly big city, but big enough to be running around for … hours.

“Shouldn’t you be going home?” Robin asks.

“Shouldn’t you?” Chrom shoots back. It stings so badly Robin is worried he might not have done a particularly good job at hiding it.

He’s so tired.

“Look,” he says. “I like you. I had … a really fun night. But I’ll get on the first train as soon as I got myself some breakfast. You don’t need to concern yourself with me.”

“Where will you go?” Chrom asks it calmly, which surprises Robin. On the party, his voice had been so loud, so boisterous. In the quiet of the night, it is smooth and surprisingly gentle.

“Wherever the wind takes me.” Robin smiles, and thinks how unfair it is - to be forced to waste energy on comforting someone else.

“Is there someone waiting for you there?” Salt in all his wounds. Why is Chrom so - why must he - _insist_ to ask these questions? Robin can’t do this. He _can’t._

“Do you want to force me to say it aloud?” Robin laughs, harsh and bitter. “I’m tired. Go home, Chrom. I’ll even give you a goodbye kiss if you’ll just kindly leave me be.”

“Tempting.” Chrom laughs, but it has nothing genuine to it, and he sobers way too fast. There it is. The pity Robin didn’t want to see in his eyes. “Robin … are you okay?”

“No.” Why lie about it? Robin smiles, without mirth. “I’m not, but it’s okay. I’m nothing you can fix. I’m not your pity project.”

“You’re …” Chrom looks troubled and finally, he sits down next to Robin. Runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not - that’s not - I like you.”

“That was fast,” Robin mutters.

“Not that way!” Chrom is back at it, gesturing wide, and it does get a weak smile from Robin. “Or maybe?! I couldn’t possibly tell! But when Lissa said she watched you leave looking like you were moving away …”

Robin closes his eyes. “Well, that’s precisely it. What do you want, Chrom? My number? I can give it to you, and you can go home.”

He opens his eyes. It’s a fair offer, but Chrom looks at him, expression unreadable. His gaze is intense. Maybe, in another life, Robin _could_ have fallen for this man.

And then, Chrom says: “Come home with me.”

Robin laughs. He can’t help it. “What? Look, I kissed you because I liked you, but I won’t - I’m not _that_ desperate -” Yet. It’s precisely what he fears that shady job will turn out to be, but he’s tough and he could easily protect himself. So it’s okay, to take his chances -

“None of that!” Chrom turns to him, a storm in his eyes. “You think I could turn my back on you? How could I ever look myself in the eye again if I leave you like this? If I’ll never know what happens to you?” He shakes his head, looking so upset, it takes Robin more aback than … everything else. Why is Chrom so upset over a stranger he met on some party and talked to for a couple of hours? “If there’s truly nobody who’s going to help you, then let me - let me help.”

Robin blinks, studies him. It’s … entirely genuine. There’s no hidden meaning. No scorn. No sneer. Chrom means every word he says.

“Are you stupid?” Robin asks, incredulous. “I could be a murderer. A convict. Anything. I could murder you in your sleep.”

“Or you could be a person in need of help.” Chrom reaches out, and Robin allows it to happen. Those big and warm hands, wrapping around his cold, cracked skin. Dried blood is crusted over his knuckles.

The touch is so gentle. Robin shivers at the sensation, and the fact that it slowly brings all the other emotions with it. The fatigue. The fear. The despair and the pain.

Maybe … there are still two hours. He could warm up ...

He bows his head in defeat. “I’ll leave at sunrise, but … until then …” Robin’s voice is so soft he worries Chrom may not have heard. But a gentle squeeze of his hands reassures him.

“You said you liked Ylisse a lot,” Chrom says, though, not acknowledging Robin’s compromise. “I liked that. Many think it’s too sleepy, but I love this city.”

For some reason, it’s that simple sentence that brings tears to Robin’s eyes. He chuckles wetly and looks the other way. “It’s pretty here. Everyone’s very friendly. I’d stick out like a sore thumb anyways.”

“You wouldn’t.” Chrom gently tugs at his hand. “You’d suit this city so well.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“But I want to.” It’s so unexpected. So genuine. Robin has to take a deep breath so that the tears won’t overwhelm him. He won’t _cry,_ goddammit.

Chrom looks at him, unwavering. “Let’s go, Robin. Let me take you home. You can crash in our guest room no problem, and look into finding a job. If Ylisse is where you want to stay, I can help you.”

It couldn’t be that easy. It couldn’t be.

There has to be some kind of catch. A million of them.

Maybe Chrom is into kinky stuff. Maybe he’ll blackmail him. Maybe his sister isn’t as sweet and bouncy and Robin will be her toy for some kind of … torture. He rubs at his temples and scoffs.

Or maybe she’s sweet. And maybe Robin would rather take a chance on the man with the kind eyes and hands than whatever is waiting for him later.

And he’s so cold, and so tired.

Robin doesn’t want to fight this. If he got into shady stuff, he’d still prefer Ylisse over anything else.

“I can’t pay you,” he says softly. Just to put it out there again. “And I won’t do anything …” He trails off.

“You won’t have to. It’d be enough … knowing I could help.” Chrom squeezed his hand again. “But if you’re not comfortable with that we can find something … depending on how long you’ll take to find a job around here. Yes? And … maybe I could get to know you better. I-innocently! I’m just … curious. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Chrom doesn’t even know half of what makes up ‘someone like him’. “You’re making a mistake.”  
“It doesn’t feel like it. Robin … please.” And Robin makes the mistake of looking at Chrom, so he sees the way his eyes soften as he asks, so very gallantly: ”Allow me?”

It’s … Robin doesn’t have the words. He swallows, hard. Closes his eyes against the onslaught of emotion and manages to nod, weakly.

“Good. Okay. Thank you.” Chrom suddenly sounds so awkward, it makes Robin wheeze a weak little laugh. He opens his eyes again, to Chrom standing before him. When Robin rises to meet him, Chrom’s arms open wide, as if he’s -

And Robin can’t resist. He lets himself fall into the embrace, slumps against that strong chest and exhales as arms close around him. Hold him. Gently, so very gently. As if he’s precious.

Worthy of this.

“We can do this,” Chrom promises, his voice a whisper between the two of them. “We can figure this out. You don’t have to do it alone.”

He’s always been alone. Always fought alone. Robin blubbers a strange laugh, and weakly, manages: “I really must be a good kisser, huh?”

He smiles against Chrom’s chest when he feels as much as he hears the other man’s wild, loud whoop of laughter. “Oh, you were. I’m quite smitten, I must admit.”

“I don’t usually follow a man home after one date,” Robin says, as if he ever even had a date. It’s so easy, to feel like that man on the party again. Someone with a future. Someone normal.

Despite Chrom having seen all his baggage now, quite literally. It’s … nice.

“Well, we could see about more dates,” Chrom says with a snort, and it makes Robin’s heart stumble a little. “But - but no pressure!” He hastily adds. “I’m not doing this because of … that.”

Both relieving and disappointing. “Then why are you?” Robin asks, careful. He shouldn’t trust so fast, just because he’s starved for kindness, affection, and a sense of security.

“Because it’s the right thing,” Chrom replies easily, and steps away. Cold rushes back without their touch, but it’s much easier to bear knowing Robin will warm up soon. And then, Chrom takes both his bags from him.

Robin realises how much is hands hurt from clinging to them so tightly all night.

“Let’s go, then. Let’s go home, Robin.”

Home.

It won’t be his, of course. But … maybe … maybe he can build one. Now that he has time to build a foundation.

Maybe fate, for once, meant well with him?

He looks at the fountain, its water holding that one wish he had made. Maybe that’s it? And Ylisse loves him as much as he loves for the city?

Maybe Chrom is actually nice.

Maybe they’ll become friends. Maybe Lissa is also the sweet girl she seemed to be … maybe … maybe things would be okay? Just for now?

Just … long enough to find his footing?

“Y-yes,” he mutters, tearing his gaze away.

Whatever will happen, somehow, he feels a sliver of hope again. And that alone is all he could have asked for.

**Author's Note:**

> And we all know ten years down the road they destroyed the crime ring and have a nice flat with an herb garden on the kitchen windowsill and Robin wakes up in domestic bliss to Chrom's arms around him and they adopt two lovely kids and it won't be easy, but it'll be worth it.  
> Yes.


End file.
